


Stories over Teatime

by Ariaofthewinds



Category: Code:Realize ～創世の姫君～ | Code: Realize - Guardian of Rebirth (Visual Novel)
Genre: AUs, Drabbles, F/M, Mutual Pining, One-Shots, Slice of Life, Tags to be added, don't want to spam the tag too much lol, i like pining, no betas we die like dummies, that is a warning, that is my jam and I am on it like bread, we making a drabble collection folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariaofthewinds/pseuds/Ariaofthewinds
Summary: A collection of drabbles, one shots, and prompts that I will either slowly add to featuring Cardia and Saint-Germain in various stages of their relationship. Other boys may or may not show up as I go. For now, all stories are being made using knowledge from Guardian of Rebirth only.
Relationships: Cardia Beckford/Saint-Germain
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Inked Flowers - Florist/Tattoo Artist AU

Things are calm in the parlour, which is odd as Impey is definitely over. Cardia leans over the client as she etches a heart into their upper back. It’s the start of a tattoo that one day will take up this woman’s entire back, a confection of hearts and quotes and arrows all full of symbolism for this stranger, but today it is only a small cluster of hearts. That is all the woman can afford for now. Cardia hopes that one day, the woman will be able to afford more. But for as much as Cardia hopes for this woman, Cardia also hopes that Impey and Lupin aren’t getting up to anything. It reminds her of what happened before.

The last time Lupin and Impey got up to something, the speakers blasted electroswing for two hours straight, which wouldn’t have been a problem if the volume hadn’t also been set to max. The music had been audible all the way down the block and summoned every shop owner to the front door of the tattoo parlour to complain. 

Thankfully Cardia hadn’t had to deal with the shopkeepers. She’d been too busy soothing the clients whose sessions had been interrupted, assuring them that they would get their tattoos finished and trying to rearrange the schedule. Not that it went well; at that point, Cardia had only been working in the shop for a month, and the clients smelled fresh blood in the water. They circled around her poking and prodding, until she’d firmly put her foot down and informed them that they all needed to wait until the noise was done as she wasn’t about to do a subpar job. 

In any case, someone called the cops for a noise complaint and the entire situation exploded as Leonhardt somehow managed to be louder than the music. Lupin didn’t help matters; whatever he said to Leonhardt made the cop explode like a nuclear bomb. The headache Cardia had managed to hold at bay fully set in at that point, pounding behind her eyes. By that point, the clients either had left or sat down mulling over their life choices, leaving Cardia alone with her pounding head. Impey was still in the shop trying desperately to undo whatever had been done, Lupin was starting World War III via Leonhardt, and her studio apartment was too far to walk to.

She could sit down. She could sit down and pinch the bridge of her nose, bury her head in her knees, but her father’s voice wicked through her ears. Ladies did not show pain or discomfort. They made others comfortable; didn’t she have guests? If she was going to debase herself by becoming a tattoo artist, then--

Cardia shook her head. Her head already aches; she didn’t need a migraine on top of that. Instead she folded her arms neatly over her stomach and watched over the customers. Time grew illusionary, stretching on as the electroswing banged divots into her poor brain. The beat clanged on, moving from behind her eyes to the back of her head and then to her ears. It danced all over her carapace, down from her head to her toes and back up again, straining the stillness Cardia fought desperately for, the illusion of normality. 

“...cup of tea?” Cardia blinked, refocused her eyes from the middle distance to the voice beside her. The man who stood to her right smiled, his eyes nearly shut. The apron he wore over his button up shirt was embroidered with the logo of the florist’s shop down the way, a rose framed by lilacs, spattered with the remains of dirt. A greenhouse crouched precariously on the buildings top floor; Cardia never put the two together until now, and even then the threads proved hard to maintain. She blamed the headache thoroughly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Would you like a cup of tea?” The man’s smile remained steady, a slight uptick of his lips. In his hands, he held a fragile cup, the sort that invariably came in a set of six. Where the others were, Cardia didn’t know. “You look as though you need one.” 

“Thank you.” The response came automatically, her hands taking the cup from the man. Her father told her to never take drinks from strangers, but he’d also told her to never leave the house. Besides, Lupin said everyone on the street was nice, from the doctor to the florist, and Lupin and Impey were both within shouting distance. 

The tea warmed her throat and settled into her stomach, chamomile spreading. The beating receded a step in her head and Cardia slumped her shoulders before taking another sip. “Thank you,” she repeated, stronger. 

The man inclined his head. “You’ve been standing out here for the entire debacle; it would be rude of me to not offer relief if it was within my power.” 

Cardia ignored the increase in pitch to her left. A debacle was a mild way of putting it. “I’m dreadfully sorry if we’re disturbing you.” 

“Oh, no no. It’s very entertaining.” The man’s smile broadened, laughter lingering under the words. “But my shop is also furthest away. Do you know what started it?” 

“It?” Cardia sipped her tea. Oh. The electroswing. “I think Impey was messing around with the sound system again to improve it.” 

The man chuckled, staring over Cardia’s head at the knot of shop owners and Leonhardt. “That sounds like him. And leave it to everyone to cause a ruckus.” 

“Aren’t you mad?” Cardia asked before she thought the question through. No trace of anger lingered about the florist. If anything, his shoulders shook in mirth. 

“Oh no. Things are always interesting here. Much better than my last location.” 

Cardia wondered what the man’s last location was like, if the bursts of chaos that erupted were interesting rather than aggravating. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. “I see.” 

“Indeed. But ah, how rude of me. Offering you tea and scrounging for gossip without introducing myself.” The man held a handout to her, long pale fingers dusted with soil. “I am Saint-Germain. I run the flower shop on the corner.” 

“Cardia. I’m Lupin’s new apprentice.” Cardia shifted the tea cup in her and took Saint-Germain’s hand. It was cool and firm, callused from gardening, but steady. The steadiest hand Cardia ever held. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Saint-Germain.” 

“Likewise,” the man replied, the wind rustling his bangs. 

Impey stopped the music soon after, and slowly the shopkeepers dispersed. Saint-Germain parted soon after, waving off the half finished tea cup. “Bring it back tomorrow,” he said kindly. “The tea will help your headache.” 

Cardia nodded, too distracted by her head and the calming tea and Saint-Germain himself to conjure a good excuse. “Of course,” she said and ignored the warming of her ears as Saint-Germain sketched a bow. 

“Until tomorrow,” he said.

Cardia had never been quite so grateful for Leonhardt’s bellowing. It stopped her from watching Saint-Germain walk back to his flower shop. Instead, she turned her attention to where Leonhardt stood writing up a noise citation. Lupin scowled ferociously for the rest of the day as the crew attempted to salvage the remaining tattoo sessions, grumbling about stupid engineers and stupid cops and stupid music. Cardia wisely held her tongue, and the day slid by. 

She returned the tea cup the next day, with compliments. Enough compliments that she found herself invited to tea the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. At some point, it stopped being an invitation and became a regular event, enough that even Impey picked up on the newest addition to her routine. Cardia didn’t understand why he’d started crying about it, but she’d put it down as an Impey thing and carried on with her day. 

Cardia hums to herself as she shades one of the hearts on her client’s shoulder. Maybe she shouldn’t be too worried about Impey causing trouble. If he does, she could always slip down to Saint-Germain’s if they have to evacuate the parlour. That would be nice. Even if Impey and Lupin didn’t cause a problem, she’d be seeing Saint-Germain soon enough. After all, today is teatime, and Cardia wouldn’t miss it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on an August prompt list that I found on Tumblr, and this first one was for florist/tattoo artist au. Not my usual purview, but here we are. 8)


	2. Magic

Magic had always been a thing for books. Odd, Cardia knows, for someone whose skin could melt anything at a brush. But magic in books had always seemed a good thing. Fairy godmothers who brought dresses and slippers, little men who had spun straw into gold, magic that had opened doors and saved young men and women, even if magic brought some issues along the way. But nothing in her life had ever seemed magical. Magic brought happy endings in the books, the princess surviving and finding happiness with her one true love. 

Cardia didn’t expect love. Knew that love was dangerous, fickle. Why else would her father warn her away from it? And if magic led to love, well, that was something to be avoided too. It was for her safety after all. Magic was left to books, to the imagination. 

Perhaps that was why Saint-Germain caught Cardia off guard. Perhaps that’s why Omnibus caught Cardia off guard. Perhaps that’s why… 

Cardia inhaled through her nose. Above her, the forest shimmered, faerie lights winking in and out of life. At the edge of her vision, figures danced and in the hollows of her ears, laughter tinkled. Lupin led the way once, Victor and Impey by Cardia’s side and Van Helsing in the rear. They’d talked, softly, planning on what to do when they reached Idea, of how to bargain with Omnibus for their friend’s life. That was before the forest shifted, before a fairy tale came to life and consumed them. But then again, perhaps Cardia always lived in a fairy tale, always lived in a story of a monster who wanted to be a girl. A girl who wanted to be loved, even if she didn’t know what that word meant. A story that started with a father’s abandonment and ended here, somewhere in this forest where Omnibus in her omniscience lay. 

The box weighed down Cardia’s pocket. Could she do it? Could she bargain with an all knowing god, someone who lived thousands upon thousands years longer than Cardia had? Could she stand up with a straight back, look Omnibus in the eye, and demand everything. 

Saint-Germain rose in Cardia’s mind. The softness of his smile, the crinkle of his eyes. The steadiness of his voice, how it broke upon Tower Bridge. The warmth of his cheek against her skin, the gentle vibration as he spoke to her urgently, longingly, even as his skin began to crack and melt. How he was risking everything for her, burning through his lives to ensure that she could live. 

How could she not risk herself for him? How could she not stand up to Omnibus, how could she not put everything on the line, when Saint-Germain risked all? 

Her fingers clenched, tinted blue by the forest's ethereal lighting. Magic was real. Cardia didn’t have magic like Omnibus; Cardia didn’t know everything. Cardia didn’t have magic like Saint-Germain; she couldn’t heal. Cardia had her own magic, set deep in her heart. It wasn’t the poison in her skin, it wasn’t the horologium in her chest. Her magic grew out of her love for Saint-Germain, from the way his smile brightened her day to the memory of his warmth. Her magic was conviction, determination to put her foot forward once more, to look death in the eye and say not today. Today, she would figure out a way to save both herself and Saint-Germain. 

Cardia stepped forward, out of the forest and into a sun dappled garden. Ahead of her lay a house. Ahead of her waited Omnibus. Ahead…

Ahead lay her future. A future Cardia was ready to fight for, to her dying breath, a future Cardia was ready to live for, with Saint-Germain by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another drabble. Thank you all for reading 'u' As you can see, these will definitely be of variable lengths.


	3. Ocean Waves

The ocean stretches before Cardia, the cerulean waves lapping at the myriad of boats that line the docks. About her, people swirl. Men in suits, men in suspenders, women in traveling dresses, some with children, some without. Their voices blend together, the clank and clunk of machines roaring cacophonously, almost as bad as Steel London. It makes the sea almost impossible to hear. Almost, but not quite. 

The water laps at the pillars of the piers, at the steel of the boats, washing the wood and steel with an endless bath. One day it will wash everything away, wear steel sheets down to filings, wood to shards, a slower acting version of Cardia’s own poison. A kinship settles about Cardia’s shoulders with this vast being that cuts between England and France. The waters envelop the ships that dot her surface, they cradle them, hold them aloft and safe from harm. Cardia would do the same for her friends, her family. 

The wind tugs an errant curl, the salt spray clinging. Cardia tucks the strand behind her ear, lifting one hand from her valise to do so. Saint-Germain should be back soon; he’d gone ahead to ensure their trunks made it aboard with a spring in his step that only recently had become common. Before their confrontation with Idea, Cardia would not have been one to believe Saint-Germain could skip. While mischievous, skipping was an exuberance reserved for the others or so it seemed. 

She likes it. Likes that Saint-Germain smiles more, that true smile, even if he waits until almost no one is watching. Likes that he’ll hum a happy little tune while holding her hand as they walk down a promenade, forgetting himself for a brief few moments. Likes that he’ll stride off at half a skip with two trunks, eager to go out and explore. 

Admittedly, Cardia is excited too. There may be a lead for how to deal with her poison, and it takes them abroad to France. Maybe they will finally have a clue that leads somewhere. Maybe they are finally a step closer to finishing the deal they made with Omnibus. Maybe…

There are many maybes. But there are always many maybes. As many as the tides that build the ocean, as many as the currents and the eddies. But together Cardia and Saint-Germain will find answers. When, Cardia doesn’t know. Some day. One day. And when they do…

Cardia smiles, the memory of Saint-Germain’s hand against her cheek warm and fuzzy. On that day, they will be able to touch without pain, without a second thought. She hopes that day comes soon. But until it does, she will walk with Saint-Germain by her side over land and ocean, and she can’t imagine a better future than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter vignette this week. There should be a longer one next week. If you have any prompts you'd like to see, leave a comment and I'll see if I can whip something up. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	4. We Could Be Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for blood, neglect, kidnapping. Welcome to the Superhero au.

Most superheros had powers that helped people. They could lift thousands of pounds, could fly, could shapeshift or control metal. Cardia possessed none of these. Cardia could only harm those around her, a true monster as her father told her so long ago. Her skin burned anything it touched, the gem set in her chest deceptively calm as it pumped poison into her body. Once, when Cardia was very young, before her father hid the knives, she’d tried to carve the gem free. Blood slicked the jewel, her fingers slipped on it and the knife. Not that there was much of a knife anymore. The blade melted before she could do much damage to the gem. Her father found Cardia weeping in the bathroom, her small limbs drawn up about her body, her hands upon her face, trembling from tears and blood loss.

He scolded her fiercely as he wiped the blood off her chest and bandaged it as best as he could. She was blessed by the gem’s presence; it would help reshape the world, he told her, his hands as brisk. It was hard now, but all Cardia needed to do was trust Father. He would keep her safe, would help her survive. After all, that’s what fathers did. They protected their children, kept them safe from the world, and taught them how to thrive. And according to Cardia’s father, she needed to stay safe inside. The world wasn’t ready for her yet.

They were ready for Finis. Finis could leave; he could go out and be a superhero. After all, he couldn’t die. Not truly; Father made sure that Finis always had a back up body ready for him should the worst happen. Cardia helped keep them clean while Finis was out. She would dust them with the feather duster, brushed their hair where they lay in the basement, hooked up to the machine that kept them preserved. A hundred strokes, her father told her, for her own hair and her brothers, and Cardia took that to heart. She would pull the to-be-Finis’s head into her lap, taking care that he only touched her clothing, and would brush. Brush endlessly as the television played in the corner, reporting on the activities of the Undying Boy, of his crusade for justice, of the Human Weapon and his crusade against the deadly vampires, of the Great Thief Lupin and his unneeding chaos. Stories poured out of the monitor and Cardia half watched, half listened as she cleaned and straightened and prepared her brother’s bodies. 

Her father never joined her down there. There were more important tasks than attending to Finis’s body. Twilight needed him to run, needed him to keep England safe, and so most days he was gone with Mr. Aleister, attending meetings, making speeches. Cardia watched her father’s speeches when they were televised. He spoke of keeping England safe, of making a bright future for all, guided by science, all to cheering crowds. Even the Queen applauded, her face smiling behind Father’s tall shoulders. 

How could Cardia not be proud of her father? He did so much to help the world. He gave everything, including Finis. How could she not be happy? Her father was going to save the world from pain, from suffering. 

It was wrong to be unhappy. But sometimes, when all of Finis’s spare bodies were cleaned, when the house was cleaned from attic to basement, Cardia sat in her room surrounded by her dolls, by her stuffed animals, by her books, and dreamed. Dreamed of stepping outside, of feeling the grass beneath her feet. Of being able to hug Finish without hurting him, of holding Father’s hand without it melting. Of being able to talk with someone, anyone. 

Such things were selfish. Father needed her here, where it was safe. Who knew what someone might do to her if she left the house? They could kill her, or use her as a tool to hurt Finis or Father. It was safer inside. Nothing could reach her here, nothing could harm her. Father was happy, Finis was happy, and Cardia… 

Cardia was Cardia. Her own happiness didn’t matter. It was all for the greater good, and she reminded herself that it was for the greater good. Staying here was for the best. The world wasn’t ready for her, wasn’t ready for a monster made of poison. If she went out, she would hurt someone. 

Pity Cardia didn’t have much of a choice in the end. 

It all started like a normal day. Cardia woke up, brushed her teeth and then her hair, taking her time until all one hundred strokes were done. Breakfast wasn’t necessary; neither she nor Finis needed to eat, and their Father didn’t force them to eat. After all, Cardia and her brother were beyond the need for eating. It meant that Cardia could go straight to the basement to begin her chores. Finis left before Cardia woke up. There was always a meeting for Finis to attend, and Father rarely came home nowadays. This didn’t mean that Cardia was alone in the house. Father always left some guards on duty to protect her. After all, he couldn’t have anyone steal his little girl. The Twilight members existed as ghosts. They never talked to her and Cardia long ago learned that they would not respond to her. Their silence on this day was not odd. If anything, it added to the normality of the day. 

The man found her brushing Finis’s hair. One moment, Cardia sat alone. The next, a man stood across from her, and they both stared at each other in shock. His hair burned white in the cold basement, a white that faded to lilac tips in the longer strands that frame his face, his eyes slitted shut. No sound betrayed his footsteps, no the sound of breathing exposed him. His hands, slim and pale, lay poised by his sides, and Cardia felt her heart stop, her hands stop mid stroke. 

“Who--?” The man attacked before Cardia could continue. The knife slid out of his sleeve and into his hand like quicksilver and Cardia tumbled over backwards in her desperation to escape, Finis’s body abandoned in her panic. The worst choice she could make, for Finis’s body bore the brunt of the man’s thrust. The man’s knife bit into her brother’s chest, and the inanimate clone didn’t twitch as the blood welled up around the blade. 

Cardia’s throat froze in terror, unable to tear her eyes away from where the man pulled his knife free of Finis’s body. The blade glinted dark scarlet brown as the tv roared dully in the corner, a news report about her father’s latest achievement. The noise slid into Cardia’s ears and back out again as the white haired man neatly cleaned the blade with a small flick. “I must apologize, Miss. But this is necessary, and I can’t leave any witnesses.” 

Cardia stared, the words tumbling over her. The floor pressed coldly through her skirt into the backs of her thighs, her gloved hands flat against the uncaring concrete. Witnesses? What did--

The man lunged at her, leaping nimbly over the table. Cardia moved automatically, the knife scoring her back, ripping through fabric and scoring skin. Her skin hissed as the metal contacted it, and coating its edge in her blood as Cardia ducked away from the man, under the table where her brother’s body lay. She bolted for the door, not taking care to look back even when something clanged behind her. If she could reach the guards, she would be safe. If she could just--

Something collided hard with the back of her head. Stars sprung in Cardia’s vision and she staggered to the side, ramming into the doorframe from her momentum. Cardia dropped to her knees, clutching her head. Move, her mind screamed at her, run, flee, just--

Another blow sent her into unconsciousness. 

Cardia woke up in darkness. No windows existed in this plain room, only a door and a pile of blankets. Her hands were bound in front of her, as were her feet, all bound over the cotton of Cardia’s shirt and skirt. A pile of cloth lay piled beneath her head, the soft scratching similar to the weight of Cardia’s underskirt. She fought the urge to scream. Father hated screaming. Unsightly, he called it. No daughter of his should scream or shout. She should be perfectly ladylike and respectable, but… Cardia wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and cry and panic, but that wasn’t what should be done. It wasn’t what needed to be done. 

Thoughts came to her piecemeal. The unfamiliar wood, the alien door. No room in her house existed this stark. Something covered it, comfortable couches, pictures of Father, pictures of Finis, medals from the Queen, awards from universities and societies. Here, the walls stand bare, empty enough that Cardia’s breathing echoed off the walls. It rattled in her ears, rapid, harsh, effervescent. Cardia bit her lip to slow it down, and bit harder when her heart sped up. Now was not the time for panic. 

Assess the situation; that was Father’s advice to Finis. Always assess, and then plan. Hasty actions bred mischief, and Cardia could not afford mischief. Not at this juncture. The bindings clamped her hands and feet together, rending her immobile. If she could get the cloth towards her skin, her poison would take care of the rope. But who knew how long that would take, and who knew how long it would--

The door clicked. Cardia shut her eyes, forced her breathing to slow. Maybe her captor would leave her alone if she appeared asleep. Maybe it would give her time to figure out what to do, to figure out how to get free of the ropes. Maybe--

Light poured in, casting the man’s shadow over Cardia. The weight of his presence pressed down through her closed eyelids, the near silent step of his feet against the floorboards reverberated in her ears. Leave me alone, Cardia prayed to a nonexistent god. Leave me alone and go away. 

The man stopped outside of Cardia’s reach, squatting down, his warmth hovering just beyond Cardia’s grasp. The susurration of his breath layered over Cardia’s own breath, the short inhale. “I know you’re awake,” the man stated. “And I would like to talk about what you were doing in Isaac Beckford’s basement.” 

Against her better judgement, Cardia cracked open an eyelid. Just barely, but it was enough to catch how the man’s smile widened a millimeter. He waited, crouched low. His body hung loose, his hands flat against his knees. His dark shirt is neatly buttoned up, his hands gloved still. Cardia pondered her options; he could have killed her easily back in the basement. One good blow with the knife, one good blow to her head. But she wasn’t dead. Locked up and tied up, yes, but not dead. What did this man want from her? 

“Taking care of my brother.” The words emerged slowly, weighed and cracking out of her throat. Her father and brother stayed away from the house too often for much conversation. 

“Your brother?” The man’s face remained still; only the slight uptick in his voice indicated the question mark at the end of his words. 

Cardia nodded. 

“How odd; Finis has never mentioned a sister, nor has Isaac mentioned a daughter.” 

Cardia flinched. Do not be hurt, she told herself. They were keeping her safe; Father told her over and over that people would hurt her if they knew of her, would hurt Finis, and how right he is. The man ignored her flinch, holding himself preternaturally still. “Understandable really. My apologies for the poor accommodations. Your cheek melted the bed I tried to rest you upon.”

The sorry welled up in Cardia’s throat; she stopped it, swallowed the words. Instead, she settled on a stare. “And the ropes?” she inquired.

“Well, I don’t want to lose my face. It would make our poor introduction even worse. I am working on some solutions with a friend however, so your room should be ready in a day or two. The ropes will be unnecessary then.” The man bowed his head and held a hand to his heart. “My utmost apologies; it is most ungentlemanly of me.” 

Cardia possessed no knowledge of what was gentlemanly or what was not gentlemanly. Cardia possessed very little, but she did possess some manners. “Please untie me, sir. I promise I won’t try to escape.” 

The man hummed as he rose to his feet, his face a smiling blank slate. “If you were a member of any other family, perhaps. But I have seen what your father can do and what your brother can do, so I will take no chances. I promise that it will only be two days at most, and then we will have a room set up for you.”

Cardia desperately wanted to ask who we was, who the man was? Why had he attacked Finis’s body, why had he come into their home? The questions burned in her throat, and there in her throat remained. Instead, she nodded. After all, that was the polite thing to do; her father told her that a person was lucky to just have a roof over their heads. “Thank you.” 

The man’s eyes cracked open. Not widely; just enough that blue flashed out, before the man’s face returned to neutrality. “There’s no need to thank me. I did kidnap you after all.” 

What could Cardia say? That it’s all right? It was most certainly not all right. Nothing was right. Instead, she nodded. “I’ll bring you some food soon,” the man said when she did not speak. He kept his eyes on her as he stepped backwards to the door, as he placed his hand upon the doorknob. “Is there anything you would like?” 

“Nothing in particular. Thank you for asking.” Cardia omitted the fact she didn’t need to eat. 

The man nodded, his face the picture of smiling politeness as he opened the door and stepped out. It sent shivers down Cardia’s back, shivers she hid by holding herself perfectly still. She held still until the door shut behind the man. Only then did Cardia let her shoulders slump, only then did she let her thoughts keep going. Perhaps she could ask more questions when the man returned. Maybe she could get answers. Leaving was no option; even if Cardia could get out the door, who knew how many there were on the other side. After everything, Cardia would have to do what Cardia did best. She would wait and plan, and her father would find her or Finis would. And then she could go home and be safe and not have to worry about strange white haired men with their polite, inscrutable smiles. All she would have to worry about would be Father and Finis, and that… 

That was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might do more in this verse. I'm not sure, but I do rather like this verse. We'll see. Late update, and my apologies.


End file.
